


Sorrow Be The Bird

by sadbutchhours



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, One Shot, bear with me, idk how to tag, literally my first fanfic ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadbutchhours/pseuds/sadbutchhours
Summary: When Cordelia and Misty are caught in traffic, Misty asks Cordelia to make a pit stop.
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Sorrow Be The Bird

**Author's Note:**

> hello lgbtq community. this is my first ever fanfic & my first time writing fiction in years so it's not super polished but hey. i liked it. title from a song blah blah blah, pls follow me on twitter @sadbutchhours i'm so lonely, i am just rly emo about birds ok

They had gotten a few miles south of the airport, after a luggage mishap that had left Cordelia seething. Misty, true to her nature, was unperturbed, though she had been the one whose luggage was lost. The airline had promised to call their hotel as soon as they found it, but for now, half of the rental car’s trunk lay empty. As they drove along the highway, Cordelia’s heart sunk as they were crushed into standstill traffic.

Cordelia groaned and flexed her fingers on the wheel. “Christ. We’re not gonna make it.”

“What d’ya mean?” Misty turned away from the window to look at her.

“Well, I just don’t want the airport to call if we’re not there.”

“They can just leave a message, can’t they?”

“I suppose.” Cordelia pursed her lips. “Fuck, I told them I’d be there at six, but there’s no way.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a black mass on the shoulder of the road. Not wanting to alert Misty, who hadn’t yet looked back out the window, she signaled to her left, hoping to change lanes so Misty wouldn’t see it. The traffic in the left lane had cleared up a bit, but just as she was about to turn, a truck pulled up ahead of them, blocking her escape.

She turned her head back to Misty, trying to distract her. “What do you want to do when we get there? There’s a beach nearby. Are you getting hungry?”

Misty shrugged. “If you wanna eat, I’ll eat. If you wanna beach, I’ll beach. Whatever you want, Delia.” She grinned, and it put Cordelia’s mind at ease for about three seconds.

Then Misty turned her gaze back out the window. “Hey, what’s that on the side there?” she asked, pointing towards it and turning down the radio.

“Um.” Cordelia pretended not to recognize it. “Looks like maybe… a piece of a tire?”

“I think it’s a bird.” Misty craned her neck to see it better. Cordelia reluctantly inched the car forward with the flow of traffic. “Delia, it’s a dead bird!”

“Oh… I don’t know…” Cordelia trailed off, knowing she had already lost. She glanced at Misty, who whipped her head around to look Cordelia in the eyes.

“Delia, can we pull over? I want -- I need to save it.”

“Misty -- ”

“It’ll just be a minute!”

“I don’t want us to be late.”

“Late for what? I told you, they’ll leave a message if they need to.”

Cordelia paused, searching for any other justification. “Well, it’s nearly sunset. I don’t like driving in the dark.”

“Five minutes, baby,” she pleaded, and Cordelia felt her resolve cracking.

“Misty, if we stopped for every dead bird -- ”

“Please?” Misty asked, and with her eyes so big and her hands clasped like a little child’s, Cordelia felt the refusal crumble in her throat. With a sigh, she pulled out onto the shoulder. As soon as they were stopped, Misty unbuckled and leapt out of the car. Cordelia stepped out and followed her to the bird.

Misty bent down to cradle it in her hands. It was a crow, or maybe a raven, and it didn’t look bloody; Cordelia guessed it had been struck by a car or perhaps succumbed to disease. Ants crawled over its eyes and onto Misty’s hands. As Misty closed her eyes, Cordelia felt the air between them shift, a sign of one of them channeling their powers. The bird twitched once, twice.

Suddenly acutely aware of the rush of cars around them, Cordelia grabbed Misty’s wrist. It buzzed under her fingers. “Hey, um -- I’m not actually sure this is a good idea. There’s so many people around,” she explained.

Misty looked up at her, and Cordelia felt her magic fading. “But -- you said we could?” she said, the statement turning into a question as tears formed in her eyes.

“I didn’t say anything, Misty. I just pulled over.” She felt an ant crawl onto her thumb and let go of Misty, shaking her hand to be rid of it. “I know it’s sad, baby, but things die.” Unable to hold Misty’s stare any longer, she straightened up and focused on the horizon. “Things have always died.”

For several moments Cordelia felt Misty just staring at her. Behind them the traffic was beginning to clear -- Cordelia estimated if they left now they’d be at the hotel in a half hour, but didn’t dare look at her watch. Her words hung in the air, and Cordelia wondered for a moment if Misty was angry at her.

Finally the younger witch looked away, back at the feathered corpse in her hands. “Could we… could we at least give ‘um a proper burial?”

The request was so humble, so solemn, that when Cordelia met her eyes again she felt herself nodding before she even realized it. “Yes. Yes, of course we can, darling,” she said, and Misty’s smile just about melted her heart. She helped Misty up, only cringing a little at the thought of indirectly touching the dead bird, and they found a patch of softer earth under the guardrail. Misty spread the dirt there with her hands and laid the bird on it, half-covering it in leaves and pine needles. In a smooth movement, she hopped over the guardrail and began inspecting the grass at her feet.

“What are you looking for?”

“A stone.”

Cordelia looked worriedly over her shoulder.

“We ain’t doing nothing wrong, Delia,” said Misty, and Cordelia could hear the smile in her voice. She turned back to Misty, wiping her hands on her skirt.

“Did you find one?”

“Sure did.” Misty grinned, holding up a rock the size of her fist. Clambering over the guardrail again, she laid it down next to the grave like a headstone. Cordelia felt a hand wrap around her waist and mirrored Misty’s movement, holding onto her shoulder.

“He probably lived a good life,” said Cordelia, rather vaguely.

Misty nodded solemnly. “Yeah." Her voice was ragged. "I think he had a beautiful family, and a beautiful nest. He was surrounded by the things he loved. Like worms, and -- and shiny shit.” Cordelia stole a look at her, and her face was so serious that she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. 

But then Misty looked up at her expectantly. They stared at each other for a moment before Cordelia realized she was waiting for her to speak.

“Oh. Uh, well, it’s like I said,” she started, looking down at the raised mound of earth and racking her brain for the right words. “Everything dies.”

Misty’s eyes narrowed.

“But that just makes this death sadder,” she added. “That it was inevitable. Because in the end, it didn’t matter. Life, I mean. Life doesn’t -- matter.”

“Life doesn’t matter?” Misty echoed.

“I mean -- it -- it -- ” She broke off. Dropping her hand from Misty’s shoulder, she took a step forward and wheeled around to face her. Cordelia always spoke better in front of a crowd. “This bird didn’t live a human life. It didn’t have a cell phone, didn’t use Facebook -- ”

“No one uses Facebook,” Misty scoffed.

“I use Facebook.” Cordelia raised an eyebrow, but Misty just smiled and allowed her to continue. “This bird didn’t have have to worry about any mortal problems. Nor did it get any of the wonders of human life. Modern medicine. Hot coffee.” She took a breath. “We think we’re so special, you know? Not just people, but -- us. We think who we are -- _what_ we are -- makes us better than this bird, just because we have magic. But we live and die just the same. Death doesn’t care who you are or what you do. It comes for you all the same. Whether you’re a bird or a worm or -- or the President.”

Misty laughed, and Cordelia struggled to find a happy enough note to end on.

“We can do all we can to escape death, to avoid it at every turn, but we’ll never avoid it. Not entirely.” She thought of her own mother going limp in her arms, and it hurt. She thought of Misty, alone in Hell, and it hurt more. She looked at the bird, at its makeshift grave, and felt tears in her eyes. Misty reached for her, and Cordelia leaned into the embrace. 

“Thank you for doing that,” Misty murmured against her chest.

“Of course,” she said, pressing a kiss to Misty’s temple. “Anything for you.” And it was true. _I would give all the lives I might have if it made you the smallest bit happier._  
They stood like that for a moment, swaying in the wind. Around them the cars had approached a nearly-normal speed, and together they listened to the sounds of the roadway.

Cordelia checked her watch around Misty’s back. “We really should get going.”

Misty squeezed her tightly for a few seconds before letting go. Cordelia caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, feeling the magic in her thrum at her wrist, reaching to her fingertips. She let go of her hand, immediately missing the feeling of Misty beside her as she walked to the other side of the car.

As they climbed back into their seats, Misty said, “That was a great speech, Delia.”

“Thank you.”

“I think you were wrong, though.”

“Oh?” Cordelia pulled back onto the road.

“Just about one part.”

“Which part?”

“I think it did have magic.”

“What makes you think that?”

Misty shrugged. “Everything does.”


End file.
